


The Price of Loving a God

by Fleshwerks



Series: Tantalus in Phlegethon [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Implied Domestic Violence, Jealousy, M/M, misogynistic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 02:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11499525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleshwerks/pseuds/Fleshwerks
Summary: Warden Surana is jealous and frustrated by Zevran's antics. References some pretty unfortunate lines in DA:O about what gender and appearance Zevran would prefer, said to a romanced male Warden's face.





	The Price of Loving a God

He’d left him dancing and disappeared quietly into one of the dark, narrow alleys. Only now after hours of night had the walls of Antiva city begun to cool down, though it seemed that the way the sun beat into the stones and mortar day after day after years, some of its heat had been stored in them permanently. And though he’d loved the warmth of the city stone on any given day, tonight it seemed to suffocate.

  
  
He’d drank enough for a pleasant buzz, but now he wished he hadn’t. What had made him laugh, had worked out the tensions from the muscles of his back had now soured the joy he’d shared with Zevran as they’d wandered the night markets and streets. He’d had the first dance with the crow but it had ended abruptly in laughter and pain as he fell and scraped open his knees on wet cobblestones. Lea Surana couldn’t dance, and was happy to surrender his remaining dances to others.  
  
And for a while it was exciting to watch Zevran dance, enjoy himself, for he was a glorious being to behold in movement, but when he stopped coming back to Lea to catch his breath between the tireless buskers’ songs, the cheer was wiped from him, and so he’d caught himself eyeing the crow, and the dark alleys and wondering if he’d rise up and leave now, would anybody at all notice.  
  
So it brought a bitter smile on his face when he’d found himself standing in front of the building where they lived, completely alone. Another reason why he’d seldom drink enough to feel it was that sobriety always returned with misery in tow, and the latter was now filling the hollow under his heart.  
  
Always the last bloody key he muttered to himself as he tried the keys on the ring on the locked front door one by one, until he heard the familiar click of the lock’s tongue.  
  
The building was quiet - it was the end of a week and a lively night, and most tenants would be out about the town, so Lea Surana allowed petulant, heavy footfall as he climbed the stairs to the apartment he shared with the Zevran.  
  
He slammed the door shut behind him, then rushed to the balcony without even bothering to kick off his wet sandals. He leaned over the railing, but the street remained empty, only slight rain and flickering oil lights making the shadows dance. He wasn’t far from where he’d fled so the music still soared from a distance, and cut right through Lea Surana’s chest, banishing back into the dimness of the apartment.  
  
The bed was unmade, messy from their lovemaking from before they went out, but sitting on the edge of it, it felt like a joke. He clasped his hands and squeezed them between his thighs as he always did when something bothered him. But where making his body small and restrained helped with reining in the errant, angry mind, now it just made him angrier. Disappointment tugging at his snarling upper lip, eyes fixed on the floor, unseeing. Words chased one another in his head, sometimes escaping his lips in disjointed, mangled whispers. He festered. Who knows how much time passed, no footsteps on the stairs, no familiar clanking of keys as Zevran looked for the right key on the ring, heavy head leaned against the door as he did.   
\---  
  
Lea took off the pendants around his neck and held them in his palm, gold glinting in the dark, and the blood in the vial somehow seeming even blacker than the night itself, and scowled as he contemplated them.   
  
Suddenly, he them across the room at the door. He resented the, golden promise come from the lips of a liar, the token stolen from a man the he had killed.  
He resented the black promise even more. What once was a key to his freedom was now his prison, the reason he could not be around as often as he needed to. Or maybe, he thought, sitting slouched on the edge of the bed, he’d pledged his heart to the wrong promise. After all, the sun’s glory seemed to elude him at every step, but shadows had always welcomed him. Maybe, Lea Surana thought, it was time to turn from the sun and go where he was wanted.  
  
He pushed off the edge of the bed and headed for the closet where one of his travel bags was tucked away. He didn’t need the light to see, what little was bleeding from the horizon as the blackest of the night broke was enough for elven eyes. He yanked it out with other clutter and threw it on the floor.   
  
In a few hours the captains of the ships down at the harbour will wake. First thing in the morning, Lea thought, he’ll book a bunk on any ship to Ferelden, he thought as he pulled open the drawers on the oak desk, staring at its contents. There was no way he was going to pack everything he wanted to bring with, and get it all down to the docks before Zevran back, and a wave of helpless fury washed him as he hit the drawers shut again, wincing at the impact of his joints on the heavy, hard wood, and whilst clutching his hurt hand to his chest. The gossamer curtains billowed at the gusts of wind blowing in through the open balcony door, ghostly against the slowly lightening sky. He walked to the balcony again and stood in the rain, elbows pressed to his sides and stared down at the empty street. Only the flickering lights in their glass containers, barely protected from the downpour, reflecting off the damp paving. Even the music from blocks away had all but faded as everyone slunk to their homes, trying to outrun the creeping dawn.  
  
His robe hung heavy with water on his back, but he was never cold as he stood there, keeping watch like a demented gargoyle. It didn’t take long for movement at the end of the street to catch his eye. The crow’s unmistakable, if a little careless gait. Lea’s stomach sank and the bile that had begun to solidify stirred up again, and he squeezed the railing of the balcony until his knuckles were white, but then let it go and stepped back and sat down at the bench before Zevran could look up and see him.  
  
Soon he’d hear the muffled sound of the crow fumbling with the keys behind their apartment door, and a surprised _oh_ soon after Zevran had closed the door from the inside. But no footsteps followed, only silence. Lea sat, tense, not looking at the door to his side, but his ears twitched, trying to catch any sound from the room, and heard nothing at all.  
  
Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out from the doorway.   
  
What were these doing on the floor?  
\-----------------------------------  
  
_  
_ Lea’s breath got caught in his throat from the sudden sound. Zevran could move so quietly, and Lea had never grown used to his sudden appearing behind his back. He gathered himself and turned to look. Zevran stood at the doorway, soaking wet, stretched out hand holding both promises black and gold. The dark grey dawn painted Zevran’s silhouette black, but Lea Surana didn’t need to see Zevran’s expression to tell what was going to happen next. This dance was all too familiar.  
  
Had fun? He mustered and turned his head at his lover, arms still pressed to his side, hands between his knees, but his eyes glinted light back at Zevran. _Took you some time to get back. Did you let her blow you in the alley?_  
  
Zevran’s fingers curled around the pendants and he let his hand drop against his side before muttering something in Antivan. Lea couldn’t understand, but he didn’t need to. The tone cut as well as any night as Zevran disappeared back into the darkness of their apartment.  Lea rose from the bench, brushed the wet strands of hair off his face and followed him back in.  
  
Did you then? Or was it the whole band this time, he hissed, mouth drawn to a wide, bitter smile, hands shaking from adrenaline surging into his veins. He watched Zevran place the pendants on the open book on the table, its pages furiously flapping in the draft. No answer from his lover, but his shadow in this wretched twilight moved stiffly as it threw the soaked shirt from its back and brushed past him before stopping behind him.  
  
Don’t ever insult me like that again, it snarled to his ear, voice devoid of its usual sun and honey, instead filled with water, only a flimsy dam of self-control holding back a flood. And after each argument like this the dam seemed to crack more.  
  
Insult you?? Lea snapped and turned on his heel. _When I watched you all but fuck that bitch back there, nice job keeping with the rhythm by the way, real nice.  
  
Thank you! _ Zevran bit back, _it’s called dancing, and you didn’t want to do it. Or am I supposed to stop doing what I do and heel like your stinking dog every time you decide to sulk in the corner?_ He brushed his fingers through his damp hair. Lea could make out the features in his face now, and they were wide and full of anger.

Lea tensed up, lips peeling back from his teeth.   
  
Don’t insult my fucking dog, Zevran.  
  
A bright, cold laughter soared through the room.   
  
Oh, I’m not, Warden-Commander.  I wish you treated me with half the respect and trust you treat your damned dog with, Zevran spat. _Every night I go to sleep wondering, how is my beloved Lea Surana going to question me this time? What new accusations does he come to me with? What other way does he demonstrate how little he thinks of my promises to him?  
  
_ Lea threw back his head and laughed.   
  
Your promises are cheap. What are you going to do when you get tired of me, hm? He took a step closer, tilting his head a little. _What token will you take from my corpse to give to your next paramour once you’re through with me, huh? You never, not once, had a problem with telling me how you’d rather have some bitch with big tits over me. You remember that, you remember that when you said that to me?_ Lea’s voice boomed into shrill shrieking.  
  
Ooh, if it were up to me I’d have some woman with big hips and honey skin, but in a pinch you’ll do! Do you remember that? So excuse me if I question the value of some trinkets you pick off your victims to give to your conquests. Why are you here, Zevran? When all you seem to want is anything but me. Are you here because of your idiotic pledge of life to me---  
  
The air in the entire room had stopped smelling like the thunderstorm outside, and instead it smelled sick, stale, like old, rotting death, growing more pungent as Lea Surana continued yelling. Vile magic bled into the thick twilight of their temple, oozing out of the Warden like a disease.  
  
Suddenly Zevran rushed to the Warden and grabbed Lea by the wrists, and cut Lea’s accusations. Fury contorted the Warden’s usually solemn, sad face into a grotesque mask, bared teeth and bulging eyes as he stared at the hands restraining him.  
  
Don’t touch me, Lea hissed, trying to wring himself free to no avail. Zevran pulled him close and wrapped his arms around Lea tight enough that the Warden struggled to breathe, but it didn’t seem to calm him down like it usually did.  
  
Fire filled Lea Surana, the blooming of familiar, pyroclastic rage. He felt the crow’s arms loosen around him. He took a deep, laboured breath and smiled viciously as the thrill of fury washed over him, and in this moment he wanted nothing but to see _someone_ hurt.  
  
And then he saw it, and the magic dispersed before it could wind itself around Zevran, and where there had been rage, a cold horror filled the hollows the fury had burned.  
  
He raised his hands open-palmed, expression aghast at the glimpse of fear he’d seen in Zevran’s eyes. It was the smallest thing, more fleeting than a blink in those golden browns, and suddenly his fists slackened and he balked. He never wanted to see that look, that sliver of terror again. It tainted what little there was left of his soul, and all the  dreams of a Grey Warden couldn’t match the whiplash from anger to horror he felt now.  
  
I’m sorry, he wanted  to say, trying to cup Zevran’s face, but pulling his hands back as if their very touch was corrosive. Instead he covered his mouth as he watched Zevran stand there, recovering quickly, but his shoulders were slumped and the look on his face was something no lover ever wants to be the reason for.  
  
I didn’t mean t--- Lea started, but Zevran cut him off.

  
Yes, you did, he replied with strange frailty.  
  
Lea stumbled backwards, spindly arm looking support from the hard back of his chair, and he slumped down in it, again pressing his arms against the sides, with his hands squeezed between his knees so hard it hurt. His own little prison.  
  
The silence between them was thick and seemed to last forever. When Lea broke it, the dawn  had come with the distant bells from the harbour  as the dockworkers began their work. Lea glanced at the unpacked bag on the floor, and then at Zevran who was now sitting on the bed, hunched over, elbows resting on his knees.  
  
Are you afraid of me? Lea asked.  
  
No.  
  
A simple, emotionless answer.  
  
I think I should leave. Go back to Ferelden, Lea said.  
  
Why?   
  
Lea lifted his head to look at Zevran.   
  
So that this never happens again.  
  
Zevran looked back.  
  
Running away from yourself, then? Zevran said with a cold chuckle. _Doesn’t work that way. You stay and regret and learn and make sure this never happens again, or I’m leaving and nothing changes.  
  
_ Lea remained quiet, peering at his lover with a lump in his throat that grew by the second until it threatened to burst and spill over, out of his mouth, all the words that had festered within.   
  
From the depths of  his belly a ragged, short wail escaped, and Lea’s chin dropped to his chest as he slumped against the back of his chair, damp, miserable and tired.  
  
To answer your accusations, Zevran began even-toned and emotionless. _I like what I like, and you knew what you were getting into. Just as I knew what I was getting into, and why I haven’t left you years ago like any sane man would have. I am here because I want to be, it’s as simple as that.  
  
_ He sighed.  
  
But I can’t live in a box. I want to live my life to the fullest now that I can, just like you. I too will not live long, just like you. And so if I want to dance while drunk and you won’t dance with me, I dance with someone who will.  
  
Lea Surana swallowed audibly, staring at the billowing gossamer curtains.  
  
So I am simply not enough for you, then.  
  
He saw Zevran shake  his head from the corner of his eye.  
  
You are not my world, Zevran said and Lea gasped as if being cut with a blade, his pity gamble crumbling around him.  
  
You are a part of it. The part I want to see the world with, fight with, sleep with, die with if it comes to that. Now that we are as free as we can be.  
  
Lea’s  gaze jerked to him, wide and tear-rimmed, and he wrapped his arms tighter around himself until once again it got harder to breathe. It soothed him, it always had, quenching his temper and consoling him whenever he seemed to unravel. He took a sharp breath and paused before he started speaking.  
  
...for once I just wanted not having to compete. Not in this. I competed in the Circle, I compete with politicians, kings and queens, and other Grey Wardens. Every single day, every thing I do is a fight. But here I am now, feeling like I’m losing the race again to the more beautiful, more convenient, more… we both know how we started out, and I know that there are more ideal matches for you, you said it to me, not once, not twice, and never with malice, just ignorance, but it hurt all the same.. So tell me, why should I not feel the way I do when you always made it clear that I was settled for, that I was… he trailed off, cheeks growing hot with the inanity of his words, and tears running down his face, helpless, foolish and embarrassed for it.  
  
That is it, right there, Zevran said. _Your endless hunger. Never once can you feel sated or know what you’ve been given, you just want more, more and more without ever feeling the taste. Do you even know what you want from me? Will locking me away and making me worship at your altar satisfy you? I thought you didn’t want a supplicant._  
  
  


_I don’t!_ Lea exclaimed.  
  
Then what is this, what is happening here? Zevran said sharply. _Who do you think you’re competing with? What am I, a trophy given to the best hunter? I don’t know what’s more heartbreaking, that you think you need to compete after all we’ve been through, or you think me weak and wretched enough to run away with the first Sam or Sally I make eye contact with? I’ve stayed through even when you’re absent for a year doing your Grey Warden duty, and as easy as it would be for me to indulge myself  while you’re gone, I never have. Maybe it’s easy for you to take my promise and toss it against the wall, but I it breaks me that you can cast it away so easily.  
  
_ Lea slowly turned to look at the leather strings hanging as bookmarks from between the pages of the heavy tome where the two promises laid. The silence between them now was no longer pregnant with tension, it just felt empty. Zevran stared at Lea, looking for an answer but when none came, he undressed, tied back his hair and crawled to their bed, face against the wall.  
  
Minutes passed, or maybe longer as Lea sat in his chair, absent-mindedly looking at the rain pounding against the window, the hanging leaves of his plants swaying in the wind, the whisper of the curtains. Someone rode a horse down the street. The couldn’t see it, just the noise of hooves on cobblestones. It’d be another hour before the city would truly get up to face the day.  
  
Wearily he rose from the chair and gathered his still damp hair and twisted it into a heavy bun at the base of his neck, and began undoing the clasps that held the soaked, cold robe around his body, peeling the cloth off his chest and thighs until he was completely naked, dim dawn light painting ugly shadows on his bony frame, and set the robe to dry on the back of the chair.  
  
He took the pendants from the book, their strings loosely hanging from his hand, and sighed as he quietly walked to their bed and sat down on the edge of it.  
  
The gold earring seemed dull in this light, and the black blood in the vial seemed to almost sing, inviting, at home in this darkness and grief. He heard Zevran turn behind him as he put the golden promise back on until it laid where it was meant to lay, against his clammy, pale chest. But when his hands rose to do the same with the blood of the Darkspawn, he felt a warm hand on his forearm.  
  
Wait with that one a little, Zevran murmured. _This godsblood is a millstone around your neck. Put it down for a bit._

 _What for,_ Lea asked, staring at the pendant.  
  
I don’t know, Zevran replied tiredly. _I want to be with you for a while with no Old God between us, if only for a few hours before it claims you as its own again.  
  
_ Lea looked down at Zevran resting his head on his arm, eyes closed, and rose to put the darkspawn blood pendant down on the table. It wasn’t his nudity that made him feel naked, but the strange feeling of being parted with a symbol of his and others’ sacrifice that had hung from his neck like a noose for six years.  
  
Zevran, he started.  
  
Mm?   
  
I think I need a new tattoo. Somewhere, he said and looked at his hand, turning it to find a place for a new memory line, _somewhere where I can always see it.  
  
Mm.  
  
Come here, _ Zevran said and motioned towards himself, eyes still closed, and Lea obliged and sat down carefully as the crow wrapped himself around him, pressing his face in his thigh without a word.  
  
For a while they sat there. On the horizon at sea the lull in the thunderstorm had come to an end and thunderclaps rolled over the city, the lightning crept closer. The stormy season in Antiva had begun, and Lea thought of how if he’d made it to the ship this morning, the voyage to Ferelden would’ve been terrible. Ships, however proud, however skilled their captains and crew, still sank along the coast of Amaranthine, but in two weeks time the storms will have abated. He stroked Zevran’s hair and traced the shell of his hair idly. He hadn’t slept all night and though he was drained by the fury, his ritewine kept his eyes wide open.   
  
Would you really have gone if I hadn’t arrived when I did?, Zevran’s words snapped him from his reverie.  
  
Lea scoffed.  
  
And throw away my work with the Crows and the merchant princes? No way, he answered.  
  
Zevran opened his eyes with a roll, clicked his tongue and pushed up onto his elbows.  
__  
Jokes. You see. It’s better already. Zevran pressed a kiss onto Lea’s shoulder where another memory tattoo laid black, needled into his skin. His work.  
  
The Warden’s skin was covered with the stories they made together, and he, Zevran, wrote down in needles and ink.  
  
I’ll do better, Lea said gently.   
  
And Zevran smiled as he pulled the skinny Warden under the blanket and cradled his head against his chest. ‘I’m trying’, Lea Surana had said after each and every one of their fights. ‘I’ll do’ was new. It was a promise, and gods had died and kings ascended by the strength of Lea Surana’s promise. At long last he got his promise.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not happy with this but at least it's done. I was so frustrated by Zevran's dialogue in DA:O. Oh, I like strong things, pretty things, preferably female things with lush curves if I had a my pick of the litter, whilst my romanced scrawny pale Circle mage male Warden just stood there with "unbreak my heart" looping in his head. Harsh, Zevran.
> 
> As for why my dialogue is in italics instead of quotation marks, it's a style choice.


End file.
